Hardships of Immigrants

My last name left no doubt as to my background. I lived in a very 'English' area of British Columbia. The prejudice was great toward anyone who was even thought to be Ukrainian. I had rocks hurled at me, neighbourhood kids broke our windows, my cousins and I were repeatedly beaten up, and even the police would do nothing about it.

I should mention that I was born in Saskatchewan and started school in
Prince Albert (the last place you'd expect to find people who hate Ukes as
many living there are Ukes). At one point in the late 60's my dad built a
home in the area of the city where the 'upper crust' of doctors and lawyers
lived. This is where I first learned of prejudice. One particular family
who were so fresh from England that their young children all had strong
accents, gave us a lot of grief. They would throw their bulldog's droppings
over the fence into our yard, throw carrots at our windows (yes - carrots),
and my mom had to often walk me home from school to save me from having my
hair pulled by these kids.

In 1969 we moved to British Columbia and things were bad right from the
start. In fact, because of the taunting, I decided to wear a button that
said "Proud to be Ukrainian". I figured that it would cause things to stop,
thinking that if I showed I wasn't ashamed of who I was, they'd leave me
alone. Once I reached junior high school things were fine.

My cousins experienced similar things. Even though their lasts names are
different than mine, they still have Ukrainian last names. Children can be
so mean - but they learn it at home.

I am an adult now, all grown up and no longer bothered by the pettiness and stupidity of ignorant ones. But I must shake my head in disgust and dismay when I see that such prejudice has not gone away. In our enlightened age one should no longer see signs of this anymore. I am now blessed with the most wonderful husband a woman could ever want. We've been married 11 years and he has made up for all of the bad things my
ex did to me. I may have lost things, some of which can't be replaced - but
I gained the greatest gift of all, a good Christian husband that treats me like a queen.

Penny, thank you for sharing your experiences, unpleasant
though they were. It's an uncomfortable topic that Ukrainians seem to often
have difficulty expressing. Nevertheless, as Ukrainians discover more about
their genealogies and the factors affecting their families and ancestors, unfortunately
racism and bigotry are often included. My parents were slave labourers under
the Nazis. So were about 10 million others. It's part of the reason and history
of why so many immigrated to Canada and other countries after WWll. I recently
came across a reference to the Nazi plan to use famine to annihilate
an estimated 65 percent of the Ukrainian population, so-called "superfluous eaters" [
see reference below ]. And of course the Ukrainian Famine Genocides carried out
by the Soviet Communists killed perhaps more than 10 million.

And as you have experienced yourself, there was and is
prejudice in Canada as well. By checking Infoukes genealogy
archives [ http://www.infoukes.com/lists/genealogy/ ]
one may find other examples, such as the internment of
Ukrainians during 1914-1920 into concentration camps in
Canada. For more information, see

Because of that little-known history (and its suppression
by the Canadian government) and such discrimination,
many Ukrainians, even as citizens of Canada, felt compelled
to change their names to an Anglicized variant. (Yet another
reason why some Ukrainians spell their names the way
they do).

Dear Penny,
My maiden name had been Anglicized Even so, because of my parents accent - and my own - (I spoke and understood a number of languages when I entered school). I obviously stood out as different than the children of English, Irish, Scotish and French families.

We never had the experience that you did as far as rocks being thrown, but I did go well out of my way to school and back to avoid taunting and beatings.

At my first birthday party while I was in primary school, of all the children invited only two children attended: a girl of Irish/English descent, who remains my dearest friend, and another who was of English (and silently Ukrainian) descent (who later turned out to be the niece of my husband's first wife - we were destined). Others were not allowed to come to my house to play and I was not allowed to visit their homes. One of the reasons: we cooked strange food.???? Later one of these mothers would ask my mother for some of her "specialties" and would come for dinner when her husband was not at home.

In the first school that I attended, I was accepted. Twin Chinese boys and a Portuguese boy were targets. I cried for them. They became friends and were always welcome in our home till our families moved in different directions and we lost track of one another.

In the second school (still in 1st grade) I was one of the minority, along with a Polish boy who sat behind me. Both of us had accented English, were considered not to bright, however, we proved differently being in the top three. Still, there was a certain name that the teachers would use in reference to us: "Those two B- - - - k children." Of course we didn't know that this was an insult, only that we were different.
When I asked my stepfather, his comment to me: "Yes, that is what people called us" - my mother etc. He did not make this seem like a bad thing, just that we were different. I returned to school feeling very special. Father did not want me to feel that there was something wrong or that I should feel uncomfortable. As one gets a little bit older, we felt the pain and I became very shy, even among some cousins who tried very hard not to be what they were born to be.

Father respected teachers greatly, especially since he had never had the opportunity to go to school. I later learned that he had come to my school (at a time when many parents didn't) met with the teachers involved and the Principal.

Kenny and I never heard any remarks about our ethnicity but there was much pressure to speak unaccented English.

My first employer while I was in school thought that I was English. I didn't loose an accent - I gained one, much to the annoyance of aunts and uncles who now had an English person in their midst.

I am an adult now (although I don't really feel that I am) - I am still bothered by the pettiness and ignorance that we see in this world. We will never be able to solve this in our lifetimes, but we can help by not contributing to the situations that lead to conflict.
Cheers, Stella Stanger sstanger@sfu.ca

Dear Olga,

I'm neither Ukrainian, nor Polish, nor Russian, nor Swiss but a mixture of all this. My father was born in Switzerland, I was born in Switzerland, and both of us suffered from racism only because of our surname (my father shortened
it).

I live in Manchester, NH and our "claim to fame" is that, at the turn of the
century, the Amoskeag, Stark and Coolidge Mills were the largest textile producing mills in the world. Most immigrants who came to Manchester worked
in the mills and many were actively recruited from Europe (both as well
paid, skilled weavers and also, for many, "cheap labor"). Poles and
Ukrainians were regarded with some suspicion as many people in Manchester
probably never heard of either, not to mention, Poland did not exist on a
map then!

One of the items to survive the mills is the employee records, During the
course of my research I have come across a few examples of Poles being
accused of stealing cloth and - there are a few "nasty"
letters written to the files by supervisors regarding these people.

From a mill record regarding a Ukrainian who owed money to the company for a small loan (?) he took out. Note the reference to him as a Pole - many
Ukrainians were regarded as Poles because of the way they spelled their last
names (i.e. using Polish orthography). This dates from about 1930.

"Employee is just an ignorant Pole who does not like to pay and thinks he
has to, only as he pleases. He owes the bill and is able to pay. I had
difficulty in making him understand (where) the matter lies. I believe I
succeeded and that I helped him."

This next piece has to do with a case of mistaken identity. It seems a John
Chrycak was in need of a work pass which he obtained from a relation, a Mr.
Petrychkovych. Little did he know, that the work pass of John Barton, was an employee who was fired just weeks earlier for a fight he had with another employee. Since John Chrycak showed up with J. Barton's work pass, they assumed it was John Barton and fired him again! This is Iwan Hrycak's reply in his own hand - dated, I believe, to about 1932. I have kept the spelling and grammar as he wrote it. It is a short letter written
in pencil:

John Chrycak

"Dear Sir,

I would like to know why don't you give me a card to work.

For I came from another city it makes about five weeks ago. But I have
worked in the Manchester Mill here about two years ago down stairs. But my
name is not like you tell me only my right name is - John Ryczak.

So please if you have a job so please give it to him."

Note that he spells his surname two different ways here - the top is
correct, the one in the body of the letter, more how it was pronounced in
English.

Another note in an employee's record, this one from the record of Maria
Jajesnica (nee Bozek) dated 26.JAN.1918:

"Walked out on account of a warp. (Sabotage) Deliberately damaged a warp"
Maria was a weaver in the Loom section of the mills.

There are numerous accounts of Poles "sabotaging" the looms, etc., because
supposedly, they did not feel like working on a particular day, etc.

Another note found in the record of a Jan Zdon dating to 1915:

"John Zdon and a friend Peter Zwiecak have a cave around Lake Massabesic and
have stolen goods. Zdon was prosecuted in 1915 and Zwiecak let off" It does
not go on to say if he was actually found "guilty" or not - presumably the
"goods" were from the mills.

Lastly there is a note in the file of a Mr. & Mrs. Kiszka - seems they found
a great deal of "Amoskeag cloth" at their home - Mrs. Kiszka indicated it
was not stolen, but because the ones who found it were Coolidge Mill people,
they didn't seem overly concerned - the case was not prosecuted. I'm not
sure by what authority their house was searched for stolen cloth from the
mills, but the only thing I can think of is that some of the housing was
owned by the mills - perhaps if they lived at in mill-owned housing, they
were subject to intermittent searches of their homes from time to time for
"stolen goods".

Many comments were also made when people left the mills with respect to
being hired again - most answers were "no" followed by some negative
comment, "Too lazy, just does what he pleases", "Too damn independent!" and
the like.

Well, that's about it - As you can see, early Polish and Ukrainian arrivals
to Manchester were regarded with a great deal of suspicion - if they could,
some even tried to make their names look more "German" to land better jobs.
The Germans were already a well established ethnic group in Manchester. An
example of this is with my own surname, "Szela~g", appears on some records
as "Schelong" a perfectly acceptable German variation of the surname!

Good luck with your project!

Mike Szelog Manchester, NH

My father worked a jack hammer as plumbers' laborer and hod carrier. He often complained that he was given the hardest jobs, had to climb scaffoldings with wet cement over his shoulder, assigned the most dangerous jobs than any other person on the crew.

Olga Kaczmar

Olga - I don't think there is a nationality in the world that hasn't
been descriminated against at one time or another - even the English!

I am of German descent, and my grandparents came over to Canada before WW1.

I started school in 1939, and was ridiculed for being German. I was sworn at and hit with sticks and kicked. As I grew up, I was taller than most of the kids, so they had to lay off. In High School it was a little better, but the girls would not be seen walking with me. So I played soccer (it was called football there) with the boys, who accepted me (which bugged the girls a lot).

Muriel

When we came to America in 1951, we soon settled in Chicago where there was
and still is a huge Polish community. My parents, however, mainly associated
with other DPs. They felt that the Poles who had come before, what people called
the "old immigration," didn't much care for the DPs. We were the
poor, the huddled masses, the wretched refuse of Europe's shore--like in Emma
Lazarus's poem on the Statue of Liberty--and the Poles who were here already
didn't much want anything to do with DPs who reminded them of what poverty
and dirt and need were like. Or at least this was the way we saw it. For more,
see: